Tweaks and Repairs
by TimeLordOfLetters
Summary: T'was the night before Christmas. A little boy wearing an oversized trench coat arrives at a church alone on Christmas Eve, seeking shelter and forgiveness. One year later, a broken and dysfunctional family of three arrive at the same church seeking guidance and comfort. The little boy hopes to provide some. AU, contains fledgling!Cas and some Weechester.


_A/N - Hello! This is my first go at writing a Supernatural fic so I hope I do the fandom justice! I would absolutely love some feedback so whether you love the story or hate it, please tell me your thoughts in a review!_

_SUMMARY: T'was the night before Christmas. A little boy wearing an oversized trench coat arrives at a church alone on Christmas Eve, seeking shelter and forgiveness. One year later, a broken and dysfunctional family of three arrive at the same church seeking guidance and comfort. The little boy hopes to provide some. AU, contains fledgling!Cas and some Weechester._

_DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately I do **not** own Supernatural, because if I did then THERE WOULDN'T BE MID SEASON HIATUSES! All rights go to Krpike and Co ;)_

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**Tweaks and Repairs**

The first time he came was on Christmas Eve. The priest had been mildly surprised, as it was not often that children as young as him came to the Midnight Mass. The little boy could not have been more than four years old, and he was the first person to arrive at the service.

He looked almost comical, dressed in a white dress shirt and trousers as though he was trying his best to look formal, although the effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that the skinny blue tie around his neck was crumpled, and half undone, and his dark hair stuck out messily. Not to mention the long, tan coloured trench coat which was at least five sizes too big for him – it trailed on the floor behind the child, and the sleeves had been rolled over several times in order for him to have use of his hands. But by far the most peculiar thing about the child's appearance was the strangely solemn look on his face – far too foreboding for a pre-schooler.

The little boy sat cross-legged on the very first pew, and remained completely silent throughout the service. At last when it finished, and the final family had bid the priest goodnight, he approached the child, who had not made any attempt to get up from his seat and leave the church.

The priest had expected his family to join him not long after the boy had arrived, and had been astounded when not one person so much as smiled at the tiny child – Christmas Eve and a four-year-old boy was abandoned alone in a church? The thought was such an odd one, that the priest was determined to shine a light on the situation. He sat down next to the little boy, and asked him his name.

"Castiel." Came the reply.

"Like the angel?"

The ghost of a smile flickered across his face, and the boy nodded. "He was supposed to be brave and strong – a warrior. Soon I will be too."

The priest was fairly surprised by the sophistication of his language, given that the child appeared so young. He was also considerably intrigued, if worried, about the child's choice of name – he could hardly believe that 'Castiel' was truly his parents' name for their son, no matter how religious they may be. He did not dwell on it long, however, and moved on to the rather more pressing issue.

"Where are your Mummy and Daddy, Castiel?"

A dark look came over the child's face, and again the priest was struck by how out of place it looked on the little boy's features. "Daddy didn't want me anyway." He muttered. "I caused too much trouble. My brothers and sisters were always better than me. I left. Came here. It hurt."

The last two words were spoken in a contemplative manner, as though the young boy was politely intrigued by his feeling of pain. Whilst Castiel reflected, however, the priest took advantage of his silence.

"You ran away from your home? Does your Daddy know where you are?"

Castiel appeared to come out of his reverie, and shrugged, fixing his bright blue eyes on the priest's concerned gaze. "Don't think so. It's harder to follow me now that I've left. It really hurt." He repeated.

The priest's worry grew at the child's words. What on earth could compel a four-year-old to run away from home? Not only that, but as the boy had spoken the final three words, the priest had noticed the stiffness with which he sat, and the way he struggled not to jolt his back when he moved his shoulders. Perhaps the child was not only speaking of internal pain. "Castiel, we need to get you back to your Daddy, okay? I need you to tell me where he is. Do you know his telephone number?"

The child smiled at that – a grin which the priest could only describe as knowing. As if the little boy was mocking him. "He doesn't want me anyway. I told you. 'S why I'm here." He paused again, and then, with genuine confusion in his voice, asked, "do you think I'll be allowed into Heaven? Because God will be really angry at me for leaving. I wasn't meant to leave but I did."

The priest wasn't expecting the boy's questions, and was so taken aback that he did not immediately reply. Upon seeing the earnest look on the child's face, however, and the desperateness in his eyes, the priest adopted what he hoped was a kindly smile, and replied. "Our Lord is very kind. I am sure he will forgive you. Don't be scared, now, you seem like a very lovely little boy. I just need you to tell me where your Daddy is, can you do that for me? I'm sure God will forgive you for running away, but we need to get you back home first."

Again, the child smiled. "I can't go back yet."

"Why ever not?" The priest replied, his concern present in his voice now.

"I'm not ready yet." Castiel said, simply. "I have to stay here until I'm ready." Upon seeing the priest's wide eyed look of mingled confusion and worry, the little boy attempted to elaborate. "My big sister told me to do it. She left _ages_ ago. Anna said it was fun when you leave, that it was all free and colourful. But it wasn't, not really, it just hurt a lot. So I came here, so that Daddy will forgive me and let me come back. I can't go back until I'm ready though – until I'm pure again."

The priest's concern was reaching breaking point by now. What kind of older sister convinces her younger brother to run away from home, all by himself? And what kind of four-year-old understands the concept of purity, to the point of seeming self-depreciating? The priest was frightened for this child's wellbeing, and wanted more than anything to simply return him to his family, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not get Castiel to utter one more word that night.

It didn't take long for him to become desperate enough to simply call the police. Once the officers had arrived they too tried to question the boy on his parents' locations, but their attempts were fruitless. Castiel remained silent. The priest told the police officers all he knew regarding the child, and after thanking the priest for his help, the officers attempted to take Castiel back with them, and eventually to an orphanage or foster home, as there will no leads on where his true family was. This was when the child seemed to regain his voice. He struggled and fought the police's efforts to remove him from the church, tears threatening to leak out of his unbelievably blue eyes, all the while yelling and yelling that he "wasn't ready yet".

Eventually they managed to remove the sobbing child from the church building. The priest had considered trying to stop the police – he couldn't bear to see the young boy so upset – but he knew that they were doing what was best for the child. He needed a family to care for him, allowing him to sit alone in a church until he deemed himself worthy was preposterous.

It certainly came as a surprise, therefore, when the priest arrived at the church early next morning – Christmas Day, to be precise – to find the same small, blue eyed, messy haired, trench coat wearing child, who had named himself after and angel of the Lord, sitting alone on the very first pew, his head bowed in prayer.

As soon as the priest saw the tiny figure, he knew that there was no way he could call the police again. He had no idea who this child was, or why he had chosen to abandon his family at Christmas, and run away to a church in order to seek the Lord's forgiveness. What he did know, was that Christmas was a time for generosity and kindness. He would be doing a poor job in preaching the words of God if he did not even attempt to reach out to this boy and offer him some comfort.

And so he approached Castiel for a second time. As soon as he had sat down, the child opened his mouth and said "I told you that I couldn't go until I was ready."

"I know you did." The priest replied. "I'm very sorry that those officers didn't listen. I didn't know they would take you away. I was only worried about you, you know. I wanted to make sure you'd have some family for Christmas."

Castiel smiled. "I will."

The child did not elaborate, but the silence was not awkward, instead rather companionable. After a while the priest decided to make his offer. "Now, Castiel, whilst I understand that you don't want to return to your family until you are, uh, _ready_-" the slight stress he put on the word highlighted his disapproval for the child's low opinion of himself. "-but I still don't like to think of you staying here all alone, all the time. How would you like to come and stay with me? Just to make sure that you're still well looked after, and that you still have a nice place to sleep." The priest was anxious that the child would refuse his offer. After all, he was only trying to care for the little boy, but he had seen the way Castiel had reacted when the police officers had tried to make him leave.

The boy remained silent for a moment, his blue eyes fixed on the priest's kind gaze, thinking hard. "Would I be able to stay here during the day?" He asked, finally.

"Of course."

Another pause. And then, "I'll come. Thank you, for letting me stay."

Castiel's gratitude was voiced so earnestly that the priest felt his heart leap at his words. He was more than willing to adopt a son, and he was sure his wife and daughter would be very understanding, once the circumstances had been explained. At least now he would know that the little boy would be safe, and hopefully he could discover some more about the mysterious child too. He just knew that sending him back to some foster care home was not the right decision.

Allowing his thankfulness and joy to show on his face, the priest looked the child right in the eyes, and said "so, are you going to tell me how you managed to sneak out of the orphanage?" There was no trace of anger in his voice, simply pure curiosity.

Castiel grinned this time, but remained silent once again.

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Castiel continued to live with the priest and his family for the whole of the next year. As expected, the priest's wife was perfectly happy to care for the boy as if he were her own, and it didn't take long for Megan, the priest's six-year-old daughter, to grow very fond of her new brother, although she insisted that he call her by her preferred nickname of Meg.

The boy was five now, and the priest had started to home-school him, seeing as he still refused to leave the church during the day. Every afternoon, they would sit at the front of the church, and the priest would do his best to teach the child how to read and write. Castiel was a fast learner, and the priest was very proud of his achievements.

The only thing he wished was that the boy would start to make some friends, but this was close to impossible. Castiel still refused to leave the church during the day, no matter what the priest said or did. All the other children who showed up at the service every Sunday with their families knew him only as the child with the funny name. He did not seem to care, however, and made no attempt to talk to any of the other children.

Every morning, when the priest entered the church he would find Castiel sitting at the very first pew, his head bowed, his eyes closed. How he managed to sneak out of the house and arrive here so early, without anyone waking up and seeing him, never ceased to amaze the priest, but he had long since learnt to stop asking. His questions only ever received that indescribably knowing smile.

And so every morning, the priest would sit down next to the child, who would not look up, and he would ask one simple question. "Are you ready today?" And each day the little boy would respond the same way. "Not yet."

It wasn't long before Christmas Eve had rolled around once more. Just like last year, Castiel was the first person to arrive at the service – seeing as he had been sitting there all day it was hard for him not to be. Soon more and more families began arriving, until at last the church was full. Almost exactly the same crowd as before. Almost.

The little group of three sat right at the back of the church. The father's face was tired and dishevelled, grief showing clearly on his features. The little boy sitting beside him had a grubby face and large, sad looking eyes, and a mop of dark blond hair. There was a sort of stubborn determination written across his face. A baby lay sleeping in his arms, his cheeks rosy and chubby, thick brown hair already beginning to grow from its head. The boy clutched the bundle tightly.

It was this family, this one, sad, defeated looking family, which Castiel spotted out of the crowd of church goers. Just before the priest began the service, he hopped down from his seat on the front-most pew, and sprinted to the back, his trench coat flapping behind him. He sat down beside the blond haired boy just as the priest began to speak.

"Hello." He whispered to the boy, smiling.

"Who are you?" Came the reply.

"Castiel."

"Castiel? That's a weird name." The blond boy said, a smile trying to fight its way onto his lips. "I'm Dean."

"It's the name of an angel." Castiel replied, but was not angry at Dean's reaction to his name. It was all that could be expected, after all. "I haven't seen you at church before." He said.

A dark look came over the boy's face, one that spoke of too much suffering at too early an age. "We don't usually come. To church I mean." Dean said. He paused, but Castiel did not interrupt, so Dean continued. "Dad said we should come this year, for Christmas, 'cause…" He trailed off, unable to complete the sentence due to a sudden tightness in his throat, tears threatening spill out of his bright green eyes. He wiped them away hurriedly, muttering to himself that "big boys don't cry".

"Yes they do." Castiel told him, having heard the boy's murmurs.

Dean looked up at him, his eyes almost hopeful, but then he shook his head, and continued to wipe away the tears. A smile was definitely beginning to leak onto his features, however.

Dean looked up at his father, as if to prove to himself that it couldn't be possible for grown-ups to succumb to tears. His father's dark eyes were fixed on some distant point ahead, the priest's words washing over him. John Winchester was barely stopping himself from trembling, from breaking down into sobs at the thought of his two boys spending Christmas without their mother. It was Sammy's first one too…

After all traces of water had been removed from his eyes, Dean took a shaky breath, and continued his story to the peculiar child sitting next to him. He was unsure as to why he was telling Castiel all this, but it felt good, having someone to talk to that wasn't his baby brother.

"Dad wanted us to come this year 'cause… a few weeks ago there… there was a fire. At our house." He shuddered at the memory. "He said that Mummy's gone to Heaven 'n that she can't come back." More tears were threatening an appearance, and Dean ducked his head, hugging the baby tightly so to avoid looking at the little boy sat beside him. Castiel placed his arm around Dean's shoulders and squeezed softly.

"You'll see her again Dean, don't worry." Castiel told the child as he comforted him.

Dean raised his head and sniffed, his green eyes still bright with unshed tears. "You think?"

Castiel nodded. Dean looked down again, a shy smile having finally managed to work its way onto his lips.

"Is this your brother?" Castiel asked, gesturing towards the baby Dean continued to clutch tightly to his chest.

"Yeah, this is Sammy." He replied, the smile widening. "He's the bestest little brother ever." The dark look from earlier swept over Dean's features again. "The… the fire started in his room. He was trapped, 'cause, you know, he's too little to get out by himself. But Daddy told me to carry him outside and I did." There was a faint note of pride in his voice. Castiel smiled at that. "I'm never going to let anything bad happen to him again. Not ever." His voice was stubborn and determined, and when he looked back up at Castiel there was fire dancing in his eyes, daring him to challenge his promise.

Castiel looked Dean straight in the eyes and said, "I know that you won't."

The two sat together for the remainder of the service, their legs swinging back and forth, as they were too short to reach the floor. At the end of the service, as everyone began to leave, their father approached Dean and his brother and told Dean to start walking, his voice gruff. Before he left, Dean surprised Castiel with a quick but tight hug. Baby Sammy let out a tiny "huff" at being squished between the two boys.

"Thank you." Dean whispered in Castiel's ear.

The second boy grinned. "Thank you too."

When the family had finally left the church, Castiel walked slowly back up to the altar, where the priest was waiting for him. His hair was even more ruffled after his hug with Dean, and his blue tie was hanging even looser around his neck. When he reached the priest, he looked straight up into his face, blue eyes meeting kindly brown ones.

"I'm ready now." Said the boy in the trench coat.

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_A/N - So there it is! Once again, reviews would make my day so please let me know your thoughts! Whether you loved it or hated it, I just want to hear from you :)_

_Until next time!_

_- TimeLordOfLetters_


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